Death Poem No. 2 --- Morbid Mode On!!!

I can't believe I actually wrote two death poems. This was written January 2009. And posted first in my Friendster blog titled Escrito antes, escrito otra vez! Funny that I had the time to visit my Friendster account. Maybe I miss it somehow that's why I found myself checking all that's in there. Lo and behold, there were several comments to this death poem which I wrote. I excitedly began checking the comments, word for word...but to my dismay...they were but spams...with embedded links to a website about some drugs. Yeah, you can now buy drugs without any prescription. Damn spams...

I decided to re-post it here. The poem's too good for spam comments...let's check the response here. =D

Starbucks Planner (Death Poem No. 2)

And so this year,
I needed a new planner…
that one from Starbucks.

I thought, maybe
I could write all thoughts
morbid and all
in those cheerful pages.

Then at least
all my sorrows could drown
or at least pale in comparison
to all that’s glitzy and perky
in there.

Perhaps, on a cold January night
I would write:
I went for a walk earlier
I visited a friend I haven’t seen
for the longest time…
I paid a visit…perhaps…for the last time…

Or maybe I would write:
I just stared through a mirror tonight
For this night another spot grew
On my thickening tongue

And maybe the night after a Valentine date,
I’d recount how I actually kissed
Someone slowly with my eyes shut
As the music was playing smoothly
From a lonesome saxophone.

I could do that too on a summer
While on a trip to Boracay
Which my brother paid for
As a benevolent gesture
For a moribund brother.

Or if I am in Kyoto
and Sakura blossoms
dot the damp spring air,
I’d list down all
the new Japanese phrases
I’ve learned to speak.

I could write every melancholous song the DJ played on air.

I could list down all the parties I grudgingly enjoyed.

I could write all the foods I guiltily crammed into my system.

And certainly, I could spare a space
for my growing list of illness.

This is not another rip-off from RENT or any other musical…
It’s just like this:

I’ll count my days while I can.

And if on the third night of Misa De Gallo
I can still count, I’ll count
just the same
wish just the same
feel just the same about
life
and
death

On the last page of the planner, maybe I could write:
Weird that a planner ought to
get involved with death
But everyone or everything
serves its purpose
And then they fade…